


The Care and Keeping of Buster

by helloshepard



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Dogs, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 23:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17253248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Secret Solenoid 2018 gift fic.Thundercracker gets a dog.





	The Care and Keeping of Buster

**Author's Note:**

> For milo. This was a lot of fun to write!

“Thundercracker.” 

He tries,  _ really tries,  _ to ignore the authority in Slipstream’s voice. 

Tries and fails spectacularly. 

“Sir.” 

“What.” Optics focus on the creature in his hand, all soft and brown, cowering under his thumb. “Is that.” 

* * *

“It’s a dog.” 

Most of the Seekers know what a  _ dog  _ is. They’ve watched enough human media to understand these loyal earth companions can do everything from participate in sports to fight crime. A truly useful Earth species to ally with, since they’re going to be staying here for the foreseeable future. 

Soundwave, on the other hand is not a Seeker, nor has he been on Earth long enough to start watching television out of sheer boredom. The other Decepticon pauses for one long second, likely downloading every Terran-extranet reference to  _ dog. _

“That is not a dog,” Soundwave says. 

Thundercracker sputters. It’s awkward enough having Soundwave and Shockwave around—their presence is an uncomfortable reminder of just how far Thundercracker has fallen from glory—and Thundercracker had hoped to avoid looking stupid in front of them. 

The only person  _ worse  _ to have around would be Starscream. 

And Starscream  _ is  _ coming. Thundercracker has no doubt about that. 

“Human taxonomological data does not allow for a ‘dog’ weighing more than three-hundred and fifty Earth pounds,” Soundwave says. “I estimate this organic weighs twice that.” 

“I don’t know about your taxono-whatever,” Thundercracker insists. “But this is a dog. He ate out of the garbage and everything.” 

“The garbage.” 

“Yeah!” Thundercracker gives his dog a conciliatory pat on the head. It mouths his hand with wonderfully sharp fangs. “It’s what dogs do when they don’t have a home.” 

“This is not a dog.” 

Thundercracker sighs.

“Sir.” 

“Return it,” Soundwave says, but Thundercracker’s gotten attached to the idea already _.  _

* * *

He returns his dog to the forest where he found it. The dog graces him with a snarl and lumbers off to climb a tree.

Thundercracker watches it go. It’s not until he’s halfway back to base that he remembers: 

Soundwave hadn’t technically said he  _ couldn’t  _ have a dog. 

* * *

So he keeps an optic on the ground, diverts some of his proximity sensors to detecting organics with a weight below the threshold Soundwave specified. Unfortunately, this has the effect of Thundercracker constantly breaking formation to discern if the alert on his HUD is a human or a  _ dog.  _ But Slipstream is caught up in the whirlwind of suddenly  _ not  _ being the highest ranking bot in the quadrant, what with getting two officers acquainted to the situation on Earth,  _ plus  _ fighting off Optimus Prime and his horde of Autobots.

Thundercracker and his idiosyncrasies have slipped under the radar. It hurts, knowing he’s not actually worth paying attention to. But it also means he has the freedom to get a dog. 

Maybe. Probably. 

* * *

Life goes on. He and the other Seekers fight Autobots and get their afts kicked. Sometimes literally. There’s one incident in particular Thundercracker wishes he could forget—Bumblebee punting him face-first off yet another cliff, waving as he struggles to transform. He’s  _ pretty sure  _ that even if every other Decepticon saw it—which they had—no one had recorded it. Which is a relief. He’s still trying to maintain what little dignity he has, stuck on a backwater planet after thoroughly embarrassing his trinemates a thousand years ago.   

* * *

In the meantime, he digs up extranet articles, absorbs a few thousand years of dog-keeping in one night. He and Acid Storm raid a truck carrying dog-food and haul a few thousand pounds of  _ kibble  _ back up to the  _ Nemesis.  _ Thundercracker perfects a holomatter avatar and ransacks a store one night while Nova Storm keeps watch. Since he’s not  _ sure  _ what size his dog is going to be, he takes one of every collar. And one of every toy, for good measure.

* * *

Despite his preparations, it’s five more weeks of searching before he finds her.

She’s wandering on the side of the road, nose pressed to the ground. Her feet are mismatched, two are dusty white, two are a shade darker than the rest of her organic fur. 

And she’s not terrified when he transforms in the middle of the street and kneels. Which is a plus—even his first not-dog had been scared and taken a nice bite out of the delicate circuits in his fingers. 

* * *

He brings the dog back to the  _ Nemesis. _

* * *

Despite Slipstream’s stuttering protests to  _ get that thing off this ship before they see it—!,  _ for once in his life Thundercracker pushes past with a “Well Soundwave said it was fine.”

Slipstream can’t really argue with that. Soundwave is after all the third-in-command of the  _ entire Decepticon armada,  _ so really what he says goes. 

And the fact that Soundwave didn’t actually, technically, say he _could_ have a dog gets conveniently swept under the rug in the flurry of commotion as the other Seekers swarm over to inspect the dog. 

* * *

For possibly the first time in his very long existence, Thundercracker is  _ popular. _

Or at least, he’s not being actively ignored. 

He’s not dumb enough to believe his newfound acceptance has anything to do with  _ him;  _ rather, it’s the dog that’s living in his habsuite. But it’s still the first time in  _ centuries  _ anyone’s come in off-duty to see him  _ willingly.  _ It’s not the reason he got the dog  _ at all,  _ but it is a nice side effect.

It’s become a regular occurance for Thrust, Nova Storm, and Acid Storm to wander into his habsuite after their shifts are over and vy for the dog’s attention.

And they actually  _ talk  _ to him now. Which is nice. 

Really nice. 

“What are you gonna call it?” 

“It’s not an  _ it,”  _ Thundercracker insists. “It’s a she.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“I, uh,” Thundercracker manages. “Well I don’t! Does it matter?” 

“Guess not.” 

* * *

It’s been three weeks and the novelty hasn’t exactly worn off yet. Thundercracker’s dog has settled in quickly, mapping out the ship with surprising ease. She sleeps in Thundercracker’s habsuite—he’s not confident he  _ won’t  _ roll over and accidentally crush her in the middle of recharge, so another visit to the pet store results in a dozen dog beds piled up in the corner of his room, along with nearly as many dog blankets.  

She’s taken to playing with one of Shockwave’s spider-drones—the defective one that’s missing a couple legs and only avoids the smelter because it has the sense to stick close to Soundwave. 

Said drone is curled up in one of the dog beds. The fabric has gotten caught in its joints and whenever it moves it leaves little tears in the material.  

* * *

“What are you gonna call her?” Acid Storm asks. The dog sniffs the other Decepticon’s wrist joint. They had been flying low today, close enough to the ground that debris had gotten caught in the seams of their armor. She tugs, shoving her nose into Acid Storm’s armor and emerges with a branch, torn from some of the planet’s foliage. 

Acid Storm sets the dog down and throws the stick away. The dog runs after it. 

“Uhh.” Thundercracker frowns, tries to think of a human name. “Alfred?” 

“That’s a dumb name.” 

“They’re all dumb names!” Thundercracker protests. “No halfway decent Cybertronian would ever call themself  _ ‘Alfred’!” _

“Still a dumb name.”  __

The dog scampers back to deposit the Acid Storm’s feet, then runs over to the pile of dog beds. 

“Uh. Maybe Buster?” Thundercracker offers. 

The dog barks. 

“Also a dumb name.” 

“Well, she likes it.” Thundercracker kneels to rub the dog’s— _ Buster’s _ —helm. Buster drags a bed over to the spider-bot and digs frantically for a moment before settling down. Her elongated snout ex-vents loudly, forming a nose-shaped pattern of steam on the spider-bot’s armor. 

And then she’s asleep.  

“Her name is Buster,” Thundercracker insists, lowering his voice appropriately so as to not disrupt the sleeping dog. “Bus-ter.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

But there’s no acid in the other Seeker’s voice. Thundercracker stifles a smile and looks down at Buster. 

Yeah, getting a dog is probably the best idea he’s ever had. 


End file.
